


Anger Management

by luluren



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Anger, Angst, M/M, like a lot of anger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:35:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4301478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luluren/pseuds/luluren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night comes to a head with unexpected results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anger Management

He’s not sure if he’s ever been angrier in his life. 

It’s like there’s an explosion about to go off in the middle of his chest and possibly blow up the room he’s standing in. There’s a feeling of helplessness too, and God, he hates feeling vulnerable even more. 

The room’s too small as he paces back and forth between the beds, fuming, and there’s not one thing in the world that will make this situation better. Nothing at all. Not even the dark haired man who walks in the door with fresh blood under his fingernails. 

He stops pacing, and watches through narrowed eyes as Eugene walks to the bathroom and scrubs at his hands. He’s scrubbing hard, really digging in, and Babe wonders if Gene will forget about it if he doesn’t see the blood. 

But that’s total bullshit and Babe knows it firsthand.

Gene’s eyes are haunted as he walks back into the bedroom, wiping his hands off on a towel. He won’t look at Babe as he takes his helmet off and drops it on the floor. And still doesn’t look at him as he sits down heavily on the bed, hands hanging limply between his legs. 

This little thing, Gene not meeting his gaze, tips the scales and Babe laughs, a sound that sends chills down his own spine. 

“We were gonna kill him,” he says, staring at Gene and waiting for the man to finally look at him. He refuses to though, and Babe clenches his hands into fists. The cuts that run across his knuckles sting but he barely feels it. “Bastard should be dead.”

Gene’s fingers twitch. “Grant’s alive, Heffron.” His voice is monotone, scratchy, and Gene looks at Babe like he’s daring him to answer. 

Babe begins pacing again, wishes Gene would go away and leave him alone so he can work through this anger on his own. Wants to stamp it down until it’s so far gone it’ll never come back up, just like all the other shitty things that have happened since he jumped into Holland. And oh, there have been so many shitty, shitty events that Babe has watched, or heard about, or fucking participated in. And it never seems to end, just keeps happening, and –

“Heffron, calm down,” Gene says, watching Babe move about the room. “Ain’t nothin’ you can do-”

“Don’t,” Babe growls, turning on the man and pointing a finger at him. “Don’t fucking say it.”

“Babe, he’s _alive_ for Chrissakes.”

“There shouldn’t even be a question of him bein’ alive!” Babe yells. “The war’s over, in case you haven’t noticed!”

It feels good to yell, to get it out, but part of him feels guilty that it’s Gene who’s witnessing it. The man’s been a good friend since Bill left and he’s the one Babe usually turns to when he needs company, but he can’t stop now that it’s started.

“You think I don’t know that?” Gene asks, gaping. “Get your goddamn head out of your ass.”

“Fuck you,” Babe automatically retorts, the anger soaking into his words. 

“Real nice, Heffron,” Gene says sarcastically, sitting up and looking Babe in the eyes. 

Babe opens his mouth to respond with another fuck you but something flashes across Gene’s features, a hint of anger Babe’s only seen a few times before, and he latches on to it, wanting a reaction from this man who, with only a few exceptions, always keeps his cool. 

“You know I’m right,” Babe says. “Bastard doesn’t deserve to live.”

“So what the hell are you gonna do, Babe?” Gene says, avoiding Babe’s gaze, though he’s got his hands clenched in the bedsheets. “Gonna go down to the MP and kill him?”

“Something, anything. I don’t know,” Babe says, spitting his words, “but I can’t just sit here and do nothin’! Don’t you get it?”

Gene says nothing, and Babe keeps talking even though he knows he should stop because there’s a line and he’s pretty sure he’s toeing it. 

“It’s not fair. Watching men die once we’re supposed to be safe. But there’s still blood, there’s always fucking blood!” His words are like a wave, gathering more and more momentum before crashing into a shout Babe didn’t know he was capable of. “And fuck you for sittin’ there like nothin’s happened and--”

Gene’s on his feet and in Babe’s face and he’s seething, shaking with anger. A second later Gene pulls back and punches Babe across the jaw, sending him stumbling back, clutching the side of his face. 

He gapes at Gene, the medic who’s never shot a gun or killed a man. The quiet, mild mannered Southern boy Babe’s come to depend on for sanity’s sake, and Babe’s gone and destroyed him. He’s created a monster.

“Don’t you ever, _ever,_ say that again,” Gene spits, his eyes blazing. “You have no fucking clue!”

Babe drops his hand from his aching jaw and steps closer, but Gene is already in front of him, his fingers fisting in Babe’s shirt.

“Know what it’s like to watch the life slip outta someone’s eyes while they’re looking at you like you’ve got all the answers? To know there ain’t nothin’ in this goddamn, fucked up world you can do to keep them alive?” His words are loud and it’s like a jolt of electricity up Babe’s spine when Gene pushes against his chest, sending him stumbling back again. “Jesus Christ, Heffron!”

Gene’s turned crazy, and Babe’d be lying if he said it wasn’t scary, yet kind of exhilarating at the same time. 

And foolishly he pushes back. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to watch someone die, Gene? Or kill someone? How about you, huh? Ever kill a man?” he retorts, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth because Gene’s already pale skin turns ghostly white. 

“Fuck you, Heffron,” Gene whispers in a voice that sends chills across Babe’s arms.

Gene’s stalking him now, moving closer and closer and when Babe feels his back brush the wall, he stops moving, waiting for whatever the hell is gonna happen next. He’s sure it’ll be a punch, but the fist Gene’s holding up uncurls and fingers pull at the front of Babe’s shirt, twisting and losing itself in the fabric. He pulls Babe closer, pressing against his chest.

“Jesus, Babe,” Gene pants in his ear. “Sometimes I don’t how the fuck I’m ever gonna go home after this.”

An enormous wave of guilt sweeps over Babe, and he tries to push Gene back, feeling suffocated by the closeness. “Gene, I’m--”

The look in Gene’s eyes shuts Babe up – it’s like looking at a man who’s been holding the anger in for so long but now it’s coming out, and it’s all Babe’s fault. Gene’s mouth is open as though he’s going to start yelling again, but nothing comes out because Gene’s attacking Babe’s lips.

Gene’s kisses are wet and hot and Babe’s too stunned to do anything other than let it happen, until it catches up with him a second later and then Babe pushes him away. 

“What – Gene--” He wants to ask what the fuck he’s doing but instead he’s switching their stance and this time Gene’s against the wall. Babe’s got one hand on his shoulder and the other splayed across Gene’s chest and _what the fuck is happening?_

“Babe,” Gene implores, his eyes so dark they’re almost black and he’s wrapping a hand around the back of Babe’s neck and forcing him down, lips meeting again in a clash of teeth. 

He knows he should pull away, but goddammit it feels so good to pour his frustrations and worries and anger out this way. They’re aggressive with their lips and teeth and hands and Babe shudders when Gene’s fingernails dig into the back of his neck. 

The medic’s mouth is scorching and he tastes Gene’s anger and sadness and vulnerability and it doesn’t take long before he’s pressing Gene into the wall, gripping the man’s shoulders so hard that if he looked he’s sure there’d be finger marks.

It’s fucking nuts, and for a second Babe wishes he’d never pushed Gene this far because who the fuck would’ve guessed it would end up with them furiously necking against the wall? It’s not sweet or romantic or any of that shit – it’s hard and brutal and Babe can’t stop it. 

It’s complete insanity. 

Babe staggers back when the hands on the back of his neck ease up, but he doesn’t get far. Gene’s pulling him close just a second later, and now Babe’s got a leg in between Gene’s and Jesus fucking Christ. 

“Gene,” Babe pants as the man starts biting his neck, surely leaving impressions, and he tries to pull away but Gene’s got a death grip around his waist. The room spins as Gene switches their positions, and there’s barely time to draw in a breath before Gene’s giving him hard, open mouthed kisses. 

The emotion in the room thickens, changing from outright anger to a sort of desperation, and when Gene slides his hands down Babe’s arms, entwining their fingers together, Babe moans into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Gene,” he pleads, feeling slightly humiliated as he presses his hips closer, wanting something – friction, movement. 

It should be disgusting, abhorrent. But it isn’t. It’s chaotic, it’s madness and all-consuming. 

Their kissing grows deeper and Gene’s sliding Babe’s hands up the wall and he’s trapped. The moment builds and builds and who-fucking-knows what’s going to happen but then it’s broken by a knock at the door that echoes around the room. 

They still, lips just a hairs breadth apart and for a second they stay that way, dark eyes locked onto blue eyes, and –

“Babe? Eugene?”

The soft voice comes from the other side of the door, and Gene takes a step back, his lips red and swollen. Babe’s heart rate spikes because it’s completely obvious they’ve been doing more than talking, and he turns his head towards the door before whoever’s speaking decides to come in.

“Yeah?” he calls out. 

“It’s Spina,” the voice says. “I – you guys ok?”

Gene’s staring at Babe through wild eyes and the question hangs in the air – are they ok? Babe has no clue, and he opens his mouth, not sure what to say.

“Yeah, Spina,” Gene says a moment later, gaze never leaving Babe’s. “We’re fine.”

Spina’s shuffling behind the closed door and Babe wipes a hand across his mouth, wincing as the movement jostles his sore jaw. Gene’s eyes light on the bruise that’s starting to form, and because he can’t seem to help it, he reaches a hand out.

The fingers reaching out hardly matter because Babe can’t breathe – it’s like a vice around his lungs and he’s got to get out of here. Without looking at Gene, he opens the door and sidesteps Spina, heading down the hallway. 

“Babe?” Spina asks, his voice low and more than a little worried.

“I’m fine,” Babe replies shortly before turning the corner and going out the front door. 

His hands tremble as he lights a cigarette and tries to think about anything but what happened in the last ten minutes. But images keep surfacing – the words he shouldn’t have said, Gene’s snarling face, and the way he kissed Babe like he was drowning.

What has he done? And what happens now? he thinks desperately, staring at the glowing tip of his cigarette and wishing he’d never pushed Eugene the way he did. 

He’s lost, for real lost, and he has no fucking clue what to do.

\---------------------------------------------------

It’s late when he works up enough courage to go back, fervently hoping that Gene’s asleep. When he opens the door, heart beating almost out of his chest, he lets out a soft breath because Gene’s huddled under the blankets on his bed, his dark hair visible against the white pillow. 

Slowly, making as little noise as possible, Babe strips down to his t-shirt and shorts but then a moan comes from the bed behind him and it stops him dead in his tracks. The sound sort of pulls at his insides, and when it happens again a second later, he turns and moves towards the other man’s bed instead of his own. 

Feeling more than a little guilty for pushing Gene the way he did, and not to mention walking out and leaving a million unspoken words between them, he hesitates for only a moment before coming to a decision that might be incredibly mad, but it doesn’t matter. 

As carefully as he can, Babe lifts the covers and slides into bed. It’s tight, and probably wouldn’t work if Gene wasn’t lying on his side, but it’s warm despite the awkwardness oozing from every movement Babe makes. 

Gene stirs next to him, and Babe turns so he’s facing the man’s back and curls up behind him – chest to chest, hip to hip, knees fitting into the curve of Gene’s legs. 

“Heffron?” The voice’s muffled, half-asleep, and Babe wraps an arm around Gene’s waist, enough to keep going and ignore the flutter in his stomach. The body he’s wrapped around tenses, and Gene, who’s definitely awake now, turns to look over his shoulder. “What are you doin’?”

Pressing his nose against the side of Gene’s neck because hiding his face seems like a good idea, Babe whispers, “I dunno.”

Gene turns back to the front, his body a statue in Babe’s arms. “Your jaw ok?” he asks after a moment.

It becomes clear that maybe there’s a chance they’ll be able to look each other without anger or embarrassment in the morning and sighing in relief, Babe presses closer, his nose sliding against smooth skin and that’s when Gene pushes softly back against him. 

“Yeah,” Babe murmurs, “I’m ok, Gene.”

Babe’s surprised when, a moment later, Gene turns so he’s facing Babe. His gaze flits down to Babe’s lips, then the bruise on his jaw, then up to his eyes, and Babe holds his breath as Gene reaches out and carefully caresses the dark mark on Babe’s skin.

And then Gene takes his breath away when he leans forward and kisses him softly. His lips linger for just a few seconds before he pulls back.

“What was that for?” Babe whispers, his voice just a little breathless as he stares down at a pair of dark eyes.

“I dunno, Babe.”

Gene turns on his side and Babe curls up behind him, feeling lost and found all at the same time, and when Gene entwines their fingers together, Babe knows he’s not alone. And that somehow, some way, they’re gonna get through this.


End file.
